Purple toes and good times...peaks and valleys
Got back from a wonderful beautiful week out in California with Risa. We went ski touring in Yosemite National Park. Normally a zoo where animals such as bear and deer and chipmunk can observe frantic human behaviors such as trying to reserve the last campsite in the Valley; honking in traffic and running into trees, rivers, various critters with their cars, and yelling obscene things at each other, their kids, the tourists, the rangers, and the bears eating the Doritos they left in the car that the ranger told them to put in the bear locker.
But all of that changes in the mid-week winter, when tourons are at home and only the deranged and winter hardy wander the inaccessible backcountry. Inaccessible that is if you lack skis and stamina. Fortunately, we had both, and were treated to spectacular views and solitude, the latter a rarity under normal circumstances. The 5 day, 4 night, 45 miles ski tour resulted in about 7,000 vertical gain and loss of elevation, and the likely loss of two toe nails. Don’t worry, they don’t hurt too much anymore, though they were a presence during the trip. No frost bite (temps were quite warm actually), just some boots that fit fine for hours at a time during prior use, but when worn days on end decided to declare war on my toes. I call it a draw.
Which gets me thinking. When I got back to Scottsbluff and back in touch with the world left behind, I found news here from distant friends. Gurg’s brother, Luis, died. Mo’s PeaceCorp mission in Madagascar was cut short due to the coup. And Melissa and Jarrett celebrated the birth of their second baby boy. Some good things, some bad things, and some things yet unresolved. I don’t pretend to make light of the tragedy of others, and refer to it here only because those involved have already made it publicly aware. It just seemed like a much larger scale version of bloody toes and grand experience. Like we have to pay the price in suffering for the good times we enjoy. But the price doesn’t always tally evenly, and the balance doesn’t always add up. Some pay more and some pay less. I guess this is just another way of restating the truism that without valleys and canyons there would be no peaks. But I reckon that to be small solace to the ones in the valleys.
But all of that changes in the mid-week winter, when tourons are at home and only the deranged and winter hardy wander the inaccessible backcountry. Inaccessible that is if you lack skis and stamina. Fortunately, we had both, and were treated to spectacular views and solitude, the latter a rarity under normal circumstances. The 5 day, 4 night, 45 miles ski tour resulted in about 7,000 vertical gain and loss of elevation, and the likely loss of two toe nails. Don’t worry, they don’t hurt too much anymore, though they were a presence during the trip. No frost bite (temps were quite warm actually), just some boots that fit fine for hours at a time during prior use, but when worn days on end decided to declare war on my toes. I call it a draw.
Which gets me thinking. When I got back to Scottsbluff and back in touch with the world left behind, I found news here from distant friends. Gurg’s brother, Luis, died. Mo’s PeaceCorp mission in Madagascar was cut short due to the coup. And Melissa and Jarrett celebrated the birth of their second baby boy. Some good things, some bad things, and some things yet unresolved. I don’t pretend to make light of the tragedy of others, and refer to it here only because those involved have already made it publicly aware. It just seemed like a much larger scale version of bloody toes and grand experience. Like we have to pay the price in suffering for the good times we enjoy. But the price doesn’t always tally evenly, and the balance doesn’t always add up. Some pay more and some pay less. I guess this is just another way of restating the truism that without valleys and canyons there would be no peaks. But I reckon that to be small solace to the ones in the valleys.